The Daring Lothario
by WritePassion
Summary: There's a new Dragoon on Pulau Pulau charming the ladies, Croque and Brogard are up in arms, and Jack and Emilia must find him before he tarnishes the real Dragoon's reputation. Thanks to IcyWaters for bringing up some questions. The story has been updated again.
1. Chapter 1

_I can't believe it, I'm actually writing a Jack of All Trades fanfic! The idea came to me through a PM "conversation" with IcyWaters, so it's not my fault! __And, like a Jack of All Trades episodes, this is a shorter story. Not my usual thing on so many levels._

_I don't own Jack of All Trades, not even on DVD. Not sure I want to, but, anyway... here it is..._

**The Daring Lothario**

By WritePassion

In dreams, Emilia could relive what used to be: the soft touch of Sebastien's hand on her cheek, the sweetness of his soft, yet powerful, lips on hers. Sometimes it was so vivid, she could swear that he was with her again, and the thought, the hope of it really happening, excited her. With her breath gasping from her lungs, she woke with a start and rolled to his side of the bed. But there was no one else in the room. It was completely dark, she knew that she was alone. Sitting up in bed with the covers wrapped around her body, she peered into the inky blackness and saw nothing. Emilia didn't bother with a candle. She knew it was a silly dream and that she would only be making a fool of herself if she gave in to her notions. With a sigh of disappointment, she lay on her back, nestling into the covers and returning to her dreams.

She imagined her tall ships sailing to their destinations with all that the denizens of Pulau Pulau sold her to send out into the world. In turn, she gave them a fair price and helped their families resist the tyranny of the French government that saw fit to install Governor Croque on the island. Yes, he was inept and easily manipulated, but he was still part of the oppressive government. Emilia sighed, remembering that the next day she had to meet with him to air her grievances regarding his latest scheme. I'll take Jack with me. He always has a way of getting under Croque's skin, so if nothing else, the pathetic excuse for a man will have a bad day.

"Em, you look... tired," Jack Stiles, the American spy who worked undercover with Emilia, told her the next day. His brown eyes scrutinized her baby blues. Even her curling blonde hair that hung down her back seemed duller than usual. "Are you okay?"

She deflated inside. "I didn't sleep very well last night, and now I have to visit the governor."

"That would give anyone nightmares," Jack quipped. "Want me to go along?"

Emilia smiled brightly. "I was hoping that you would. Thank you, Jack."

"My pleasure, Em." He smiled at her in a way that tugged at her heartstrings, despite her constant efforts to rebuff such a pulling. Although her husband was dead, she still loved him and her heart was his. Jack was a friend and fellow worker for the cause, even if he was an American and she was English. Involving romance in their relationship was a very bad idea. But one look at his nattily dressed, powerful frame and smooth, handsome face with the irresistible dimple when he smiled, which was often, was enough to cause a girl to swoon uncontrollably. Emilia fought hard not to be that girl.

Governor Croque was waiting for her with a grin that looked as if he wanted to eat her up with a spoon and savor every bite, but when he saw Jack behind her, his face fell into a scowl.

"Jacques..." Croque regained some of his sunny expression giving Emilia his full attention. He approached her as he spoke. "Madame Emilia, it is so good to see you this morning. I hope you are well." He reached for her gloved hand and kissed it just a little too long.

Emilia snatched it back and caught Captain Bogard eyeing the exchange with a look that told her he would probably store the image away and retrieve it at night to feed his dreams. That thought caused her to physically shudder.

"Are you cold, Emilia?" Croque asked, concerned.

"Oh no, I'm fine, thank you." Emilia put on her best cheerful smile. "I would like to discuss something with you, if I may."

"Of course. Have you heard about the Daring Dragoon and his latest shenanigans?" Croque smiled as if he would burst if he couldn't tell her.

Emilia and Jack glanced at each other, puzzled. Jack spoke first. "We haven't heard, Croquie. What's up with the Dragoon?"

"Rumor has it that he's quite the lothario," Croque gushed, his eyes alight with excitement, but he quickly controlled it with a wave of his handkerchief. "Some of the residents, female residents, that is, are reporting that the Dragoon has come to visit them in the night."

"What?" Emila gasped. "Why would he do that?"

Croque's eyebrow quirked upward as he responded. "Why would any man want to spend time with a beautiful, charming woman?"

A chill ran through Emilia. It couldn't be true. Jack would never... She eyed him, and he eyed her. No, it can't be. He wouldn't look me in the eye if he was using the Daring Dragoon to romance women. He wouldn't. He couldn't! She kept her composure and said, "Really. And these women, are they filing reports with the Constable?"

"No. As a matter of fact, they're quite enjoying it from what I understand!" He ran the handkerchief over his face and dabbed away the perspiration. Summer days in Pulau Pulau could be quite warm, and the escapades of the Daring Dragoon didn't help.

"Well, I don't know what I can do about that," Emilia said. "I came here to discuss with you the new tax that you've invoked on the people. It's indecent!"

"What's indecent is this man, this coward, wearing a mask and running around molesting innocent women," Brogard exclaimed, his eyes narrowed as they fell on Jack. "My men and I are on top of this, and we will catch him. It is imperative, more than ever. Imagine what this would do for tourism on the island."

Emilia was beginning to get annoyed. These men couldn't talk about anything except for the Daring Dragoon and his midnight meanderings. She had to put her foot down before things got completely out of control.

A shrill scream rose up from the street below, drawing everyone's attention to the scene. A woman walking past the mansion along a path covered by heavy vegetation struggled against a larger, more powerful figure.

"The Dragoon! Has he no shame, even in the daylight?" Croque gasped.

"The Dragoon would never..." Emilia began, but cut herself off. She turned and saw that Jack was gone. No doubt the real Dragoon would take care of whatever was happening down below.

Indeed, rustling announced the arrival of the man in the red cape, black tri-cornered hat, and black mask. His sword glinted in the sunlight as he drew it and pointed it at the man who tried to attack the woman. From her vantage point, Emilia couldn't hear the words but she knew that the Dragoon honorably defended the woman. He detained the man and tied his hands and feet, leaving a nice package for Croque's men to haul away to jail. The woman looked at the Dragoon with awe... and desire... in her eyes. Emilia saw that even where she stood.

"Stop him! Stop the Dragoon from escaping," Croque called down to a small group of soldiers standing in the market place. They stood at attention, saluted, and ran toward the ruckus. Fortunately, the Dragoon was already gone. Croque harumphed, voicing his frustration.

It took a few minutes for the excitement to die down, and by then Emilia knew there would be no convincing Croque to rescind the taxes today. She tugged on the hem of her bodice. "Well, Governor, I have work to do, so if you will excuse me."

"Feel free to visit at any time, Madame Emilia," Croque said, oozing charm that sounded more like a come on from a sleazy uncle. "I would enjoy having you."

"I can imagine," she mumbled as she quickly made her escape.

By the time she returned to the lab, Jack was there in his street clothes, the Dragoon's uniform put away until needed again.

"What was that man doing, the one you captured?"

Jack whisked a piece of lint from his jacket as he replied, "It was just a thief. Not the man we're looking for." He leaned against the bench where Emilia had an experiment running. "Hey, Em. How'd it go with Croquie?"

"It didn't. This charlatan is interfering with business, because Croque couldn't get his mind off the Daring Dragoon and his midnight prowling." She looked up at him with an angry set to her brows.

Jack held up his hands. "Em, I don't know what they're talking about. Seriously! Do you really think that I would go around sleeping with strange women, using my alter-ego as a disguise?"

It would be so easy to say yes, knowing Jack's healthy attraction to women. However, when it came to the local hero, he was always serious. "I don't believe it for one second. But we have to find out who is doing this! If he hurts a woman, or... or..."

"Or father's a child," Jack asked with an eyebrow raised to emphasize his discomfort with the idea.

Emilia blushed. "Yes."

"Yeah, that could throw a wrench in the works, in a lot of ways." His mouth set into a thin line as he thought for a few moments. Then he turned and headed for his cot. "Em, if you don't mind, try to keep the noise down today?"

She stood with her hands on hips, scowling at him. "And why should I do that?"

"Because I need my beauty rest. The Dragoon has to take patrol tonight."

"Jack, no! You can't go out as him!" She took a few steps and caught up to Jack, grasping his arm.

He looked down at her tight grip. "Well, I haven't completely figured out yet how I'm going to do this, because dressing as the Dragoon might not be the best plan." He smiled, raised his hand to caress her jaw, but restrained himself. With an embarrassed smile, he said, "Don't worry, I'll have it figured out by nightfall."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Jack awoke at Emilia's touch, and when he opened his eyes he discovered that it was almost completely dark. A dim lantern provided light in the cellar that served as Emilia's lab and Jack's quarters. She didn't usually venture past the filmy curtains he installed for a little privacy and to block the light when she puttered around late at night, so his curiosity was piqued.

"Em? What is it?" He rubbed his eyes.

"It's after nine. I thought maybe you might like something to eat before you go out on your… patrol," she said.

"Oh yeah, right." He sat on the edge of the bed, slipped his feet into his boots, and stood. He stretched, and his hands touched the low ceiling. "Has the Croquester come up with any suspects yet?"

"I don't know. I've been busy all day, so I haven't been to the mansion to see him," Emilia replied as she led him upstairs. "Have you reconsidered prowling about as the Daring Dragoon? It could be dangerous, you know."

Jack chuckled. "I laugh in the face of danger, you know that!"

"Yes, and sometimes it laughs right back at you," she muttered.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing." She smiled at him over her shoulder.

The dining room table was set for two; Jack was impressed. "You didn't have to wait for me to have dinner, Em."

She turned and faced him. "I've gotten quite accustomed to sharing meals with you." A slight blush flitted across her cheeks as she admitted, "It's lonely otherwise."

It was so tempting to take that and run with it, but with someone out there pretending to be him and having his way with unsuspecting, but apparently willing, women, he wasn't in the mood for attempting to seduce Emilia. He'd tried and failed too many times.

Jack was a typical red-blooded American male. He loved women, and truth be told, he loved Emilia more than any other, although he worked hard to keep that a secret. They were friends, fellow spies, working together. It wouldn't be good to mix romance with work, although a part of him wanted to throw convention out the window and follow his instincts. Only one thing put up a constant barrier: he revered Emilia, and he would never do anything to destroy what little regard she might have for him, so he suffered in silence while she kept the fire going without even realizing it.

"Jack, is the soup too hot," Emilia asked.

"Huh?" He hadn't realized that he'd been lost in his thoughts. "No, it's, uh, it's just fine."

"You're not eating." She said and her eyes stopped at his bowl.

"Sorry. I guess I have a lot on my mind tonight." He picked up his spoon and made a show of taking a few tastes. "Good soup, Em."

"One of the ladies brought it over as a favor for something I did for her. It is quite good."

Jack felt her eyes on him. He looked up at Em and said, "I'm afraid I'm not very good company tonight. I'm concerned about this impostor. He hasn't hurt anyone yet, has he?"

"Not according to Captain Brogard. He goes into a lady's bedroom while she's asleep, kisses her until she awakens, and then…." She trailed off as her cheeks reddened again. "What makes it especially heinous is that these are not married women; not that that would be any better, but… oh, Jack, you know what I mean! There are… virtues… at stake here!"

"I understand completely, Em. Don't worry, I'll find out who's doing this."

Her voice rose as she continued, "There is a brothel on this island, after all! Why can't he use it?"

"You'd have to ask our masked marauder that, Em." By now, Jack had lost his appetite.

"Jack, what's wrong?" She leaned forward, her eyes like rapiers pointing at him. "You can never hide from me when something is disconcerting you."

"You're right," he said with a deep sigh. Folding up his napkin, Jack dropped it on the table beside his place setting and spoke. "During the afternoon, while you went upstairs to conduct business, I awoke from an unsettling dream about the Dragoon. I had this feeling like something wasn't right, so I did an inventory of my alter-ego's wardrobe." An expression of discomfort crossed his features. "I counted twice and discovered that one set of everything was missing, and I can't figure out who would have been able to take it or when. I'm sorry, Em."

"It's not your fault. Our lab is secret to everyone but Croque and Brogard and his men. Why should you suspect that anything of yours would be out of place?" She thought for a moment. "The last time anyone besides you or I had been in the lab was when Brogard got it in his head that we were hiding something."

"I remember that. He was sure it would be in the lab and had it thoroughly searched. He missed the Dragoon's clothing entirely." Jack's eyes rose and met Emilia's. "Oh no, you don't think that Brogie had something to do with this, do you?" He grimaced, and she looked horrified.

Fanning herself with her hand, Emilia said, "God forbid!"

"Well, someone is out there acting as a fly-by-night Romeo, and I know it's not me." Jack pushed his chair back and stood. "I better change and start my rounds."

Emilia tried to hide her concern. "Good luck, Jack."

"Thanks, Em." He gave her a reassuring smile and left the room.

Jack stayed out all night riding his mount through the quiet village streets. He was the only one about, except for a few of Brogard's men, and he hid himself from them. It wouldn't do for the real Dragoon to be arrested while the fake was out accosting women. Other than the troops, he saw nothing, heard nothing, and came up empty. By dawn he was back in the lab, the Dragoon put to bed in the closet, and Jack Stiles asleep atop the bedcovers. That was where Emilia found him.

Emilia stepped into his private chamber. This was the second time in as many days, which was highly unusual, although not unheard of. In the early days of their partnership, she sometimes had to push Jack out of bed after a night of carousing at the pubs so he could do his spy work. Seeing him attempt to function with a hangover brought her a small sense of perverse pleasure. As time passed and Jack became the Dragoon, taking the role seriously along with his assignments from the President, she gained respect for him. Things changed, so finding him sleeping so late was not what she expected.

I wonder how long he stayed out last night. His breathing was like that of a deep sleeper. She hated to wake him, but an envelope arrived on one of her ships this morning for him. Most likely, it contained new orders.

"Jack? Jack, it's morning. Wake up."

He grumbled and turned his head away from her. She jostled his shoulder and shook his entire upper body.

"Jack! Come on, it's time to get up!" He mumbled something she couldn't understand, which only irritated her more. "What did you say?"

He groaned, rolled to face her and muttered, "I just went to bed a little while ago, sister. Just leave me alone, will ya?" He turned away again and went back to sleep.

She was about to say something, but she heard the bell at the door. The only thing more unusual than Jack sleeping in his clothes in the middle of the morning was a caller at her home at this time of day. Emilia hurried up the stairs to answer the door. She opened it wide, surprised to see Governor Croque standing there with Captain Brogard at his side. The sneer wiped off his face as he spied her.

"Madame Emilia," Governor Croque spoke, his eyes wide. "Thank goodness you are alright!"

"What do you mean?" She looked from Croque to Brogard and back.

"The Daring Lothario, he's been at it again," Brogard reported. "Last night, someone saw him approach your home and walk in as if he lived here."

She gasped. "He did? When was this?"

"Very early in the morning. One of the shopkeepers, a very concerned citizen, saw the Dragoon himself." Brogard looked past her, scanning the foyer. "Perhaps, if you will allow it, we may search your lovely home and see if the dastardly coward is here."

"I am surprised that Jacques is not here to watch over you. But then, why should that surprise me," Croque said with a smug smile. "The little monkey would probably run away in fright at the Dragoon's presence."

Anger rose up in her. Jack was more of a man than Croque could ever hope to be. "I think you underestimate him, Governor."

Croque folded his hands in supplication. "Madame, please allow us to search your home. It would make me feel so much better knowing that the Dragoon is not hiding inside, waiting to pounce on you." The imagery of pouncing on Emilia must have touched a nerve in the governor, as he shivered with a delighted look on his face.

Emilia did a quick mental rundown of each room. She hadn't left anything out that would raise any red flags if the two bumbling idiots came in and prowled around her home. Finally, she said, "Alright, you may enter."

The two men searched from top floor to ground without success. Brogard looked peeved. She knew that he'd been craving a good sword fight with the Dragoon for quite some time, and to be denied again was a great disappointment. Perhaps Jack's new orders would allow him to get the Dragoon into a dust-up with the French Captain and leave him holding up his pants like the last time when he sliced Brogard's suspenders. Emilia restrained her smile as she bid them a good day.

They were getting nowhere with the investigation, so Emilia hoped that the letter Jack received from the President might be a nice diversion. When he arose and joined her for tea, she gave him the missive.

"Well," Emilia asked as she lifted her teacup. "What does it say?"

"The President writes that last week a ship arrived in Pulau Pulau with a man on board who is an American spy. His name is Carson Lamont, and he is working even deeper undercover than we are. If he approaches us for assistance, we should give him what he needs."

"Does the letter say what this mystery man's mission is?"

He read it to himself for the third time. "No, it's simply top secret." He folded up the paper and stuffed it into the envelope. "I hate top secret missions, especially when I'm not involved in them." He crossed his legs and his arms, a scowl on his face.

"Oh, Jack, it's not the end of the world. Maybe he'll enlist our aid, and we'll have some excitement." It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but it was the best she could offer. "Will you be able to accompany me tomorrow? I must do some shopping at the market. I need supplies for my experiments."

He stifled a yawn behind his teacup. "I'd love to, Em, but I need to do my patrols again tonight."

"Alright." She tried to hide her disappointment, but it was useless. By now Jack knew every nuance and gesture she made and the reason for them. He would know how she really felt.

The dimple appeared as he acquiesced. "Okay, I'll try not to stay out too late tonight."

She beamed. "Thank you, Jack. I appreciate it."

Again, Jack found no evidence of the Dragoon impostor, and instead found himself chased by a man who saw him and thought he was about to enter his home. Jack spurred his horse back to the stables, deciding to call it an early, fruitless night. When Emilia woke him the next morning, he was tired but able to accompany her in his role as attaché.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

There were signs that the spy was on the island, but he made himself scarce. Brogard's men were made fools of in an even finer fashion than Jack had ever accomplished in toying with them. He was starting to get jealous. If only he could find him.

The Governor invited Emilia and Jack to dinner, and the sole topic of conversation was again the Daring Dragoon. Croque and Brogard were beside themselves.

"He continues on his night time escapades," Brogard said with a nasal voice that sounded like a whine. "The villagers are beginning to doubt the hero status of the Dragoon. Perhaps he is not who they thought."

Jack and Emilia glanced at each other, concern evident in their eyes. Turning back to Croque, Jack said, "I still believe that this is an impostor. All you have to do is come up with a way to flush him out."

"Yes," Emilia agreed. "Manufacture a situation in which the Dragoon couldn't help but come dashing in. It would have to be at night."

"Yes, he has been quite scarce during the daylight hours, hasn't he," Brogard said as he brushed his chin with his thumb and index finger. "Very astute, Madame Emilia."

"And I have just the idea," she added. "I'll lure him."

"Em, you can't be serious," Jack exclaimed, fearful for her.

"Not to worry, Jack. You and Brogard can hide in my chambers, so when the impostor comes in, you can capture him."

Jack glanced at Brogard. He didn't like the idea of working with that fruitcake. Obviously, from the look Brogard threw his way, he wasn't very keen on working with Jack, either. Jack sighed, set his fork on his plate, and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Alright, I'll do it. Brogie?"

All eyes were on Brogard. "Oui. This has to stop. The Dragoon is instilling fear in the locals, and the only one who should be doing that is our esteemed Governor." He smiled at Croque.

It was all Emilia and Jack could do to keep from laughing. Jack cleared his throat. "It's settled then."

Emilia said, "I need to make myself enticing to the fake Dragoon. Otherwise, we could be doing this for who knows how long until he comes to my home."

"Well, how do you propose to do that?"

"I'll start tonight. Don't worry, gentlemen, I know what I'm doing." Emilia smiled.

That night, Emilia made sure that the fake Dragoon would have a good show of her preparing for bed. The curtains were drawn, but their filmy sheers allowed her silhouette to broadcast across the empty marketplace. Only someone walking around outside would see it.

Brogard stood outside with Jack, his eyes glued to the window. Jack, seeing where his sight lay, slugged him in the arm. "Eyes off Emelia, Brogie! We've got to spread out and watch over the grounds."

"I thought the plan was for you and I to hide in Madame Rothchild's closet."

"Yeah, well, I changed it. If we can intercept this joker before he gets into the house, it'll save Emelia from being a target. Understand?"

"Hmm, yes. Fine, I will stay here and my men will fan out." He lifted his hand as if shooing them away, and the detail split in two directions. Brogard went back to watching Emeilia.

Jack, not liking this plan one bit, picked up a stone and threw it into the underbrush. It landed, causing a rustling noise. "Hey, Brogie, did you hear that," Jack whispered. "You better go check that out. I'll stay here."

Brogard gave him a look, but he moved off into the darkness. He grinned, listening to the swish of the vegetation as Brogard went in. It was quickly followed by another sound, as if he tripped over something. Jack snickered. Mission accomplished, no danger of him hiding in Em's closet. He didn't trust that man to keep his pickle in his pocket around her. She could handle herself, but dealing with him while trying to lure the impostor was too much for one night.

He stood in line with her window. The low light behind her made the silhouette almost innocent. Then she turned and he caught her profile. A soft groan came out of him. The dresses she wore were stylish and hardly prudish in what they exposed, but this sight left more to the imagination, and his was working overtime. Jack wished he could get closer and see more detail. He took a step, then halted and mentally slapped himself upside the head. This was Em he was ogling! As much as he cared for her... no, he loved her. He respected her. Acting like a school boy looking for a cheap thrill made him as despicable as the poser.

Jack grounded himself and remembered why he was out and about at this time of night. Emilia spread her arms out wide as she slipped into her night gown and robe, her body slinking and swaying in the window, just enough to attract the false Dragoon if he was out there. Jack didn't see anyone nearby. Disappointed, he retreated to the mansion and went to the lab to prepare for bed.

Standing before the fireplace, preparing to step through the false flames that led to the lab's secret entrance, he looked at himself in the mirror over the mantel. He turned his head to one side, then the other. Did the man resemble him enough to fool the ladies? Could he do the job of Dragoon as well as Jack? So many doubts and questions that he couldn't answer. He felt as if they were chasing a ghost.

Emilia's scream startled Jack, but his feet turned and ran to the stairs as if they had a mind of their own. He reached her bedroom and flung the door open wide. A shadowy figure hovered over her as she crawled back against the headboard.

"Step away from her, if you know what's good for you," Jack declared with confidence. He didn't have a sword with him, unlike his shadowy opponent, but he would make do. One of Em's parasols rested in a caddy near the door. He picked it up and pointed it at him. "Get up from Emilia's bed, now. Don't make me use this."

The black shrouded Dragoon laughed and slipped off the bed. With slow, graceful steps he approached Jack. "You're an amusing man, Mr. Stiles. But I don't think a parasol will prevent me from having what I want."

"We'll see, won't we," Jack challenged.

The Dragoon thrust first, and Jack parried. With one good whack, the parasol was useless for anything but starting a trash fire. Jack slipped sideways, and the Dragoon followed. Jack led the man around the room, looking for something to use as an appropriate weapon.

Grinning, the Dragoon said, "You're out of luck. I hold the sword and the cards here."

"I don't think so." Jack whirled, picked up the poker from the collection of fireplace tools on the hearth, and thrust it at the Dragoon. It was made of iron, more likely to stand up to the steel blade that slashed and flashed in the candlelight.

Back and forth across the carpeting both men fought, one the aggressor the other the defender, then switching. The clanging of steel against the iron caused a ringing sound that echoed in the large bedroom, along with the dampened thud of boots on the floor. The Dragoon faked out Jack and appeared beside Emilia where she knelt on the bed. He grinned, grabbing her around the waist, and carried her toward the door.

"Unhand me, you cretin!" Emilia pounded on his back and shoulder with her fists, merely irritating him.

"You heard the lady," Jack said as he pounced, swinging the poker in an arc that came down hard on the Dragoon's head. He only stunned him, but at least the intruder dropped Emilia. She found her footing and backed away.

"You don't know who you're messing with, Stiles. I'm the best spy your government has, and I have a knack of getting what I want, how I want it." He grinned. "This quaint folk hero that the ladies seem to love so much has served as a good cover to... sate my desires."

Jack took a couple of steps backward into the room, stunned long enough for the fake Dragoon's blade to swing up and poke Jack in the throat. "You're Carson Lamont."

"Yes. I could make you my personal pincushion if I chose, and for an encore, have your charming Emilia." He smirked.

The pressure of the blade pricked, and Jack felt it pierce a couple layers of his skin. In the dimness he looked at Emilia and pondered the thought that this could be the end. There would be no more missions with her, no more serving the people as the real Dragoon. No, it doesn't end this way, not while he still had the energy to fight. With lightning speed, Jack brought up his arm in an arc, the poker making contact with the blade, knocking it away. He sensed the tip slicing into his flesh as it rose into the air above and flew away from them. He didn't drop the sword as Jack hoped he would. Instead, his mouth set in a grim, angry line as he thrust the blade down and forward at Jack.

Jack jumped backward, just in time. Emilia stood behind Lamont with a heavy ceramic vase poised over her head, but he jumped forward just as she drew it downward, missing him. She recovered quickly, swinging it sideways to connect with his temple. The force caused it to shatter, and the spy dropped to the floor like a sack of lead, unconscious.

"Em, are you okay?" Jack held tight to the poker handle until he was certain that the other man was down for the count. He leaned over and grabbed the sword before his opponent could do anything, but Lamont didn't stir. "Em. Did he hurt you?"

"No, Jack, I'm fine," she answered with an edge to her voice as she pointed to him. "You, however, have a nasty cut on your face. You're bleeding!"

"I am?" He tossed the poker out of Lamont's reach and touched his fingers to his jaw to the left of the corner of his mouth. His fingers came away slick with blood. When he looked down, the front of his blouse sported large drops forming a trail. "Oh, dear." Feeling faint, Jack sat on the edge of the bed.

Without thinking, Emilia picked up a towel from the wash stand and pressed it to his wound. He hissed and retreated, falling onto his right elbow to get away from her.

"Will you sit still? I'm trying to stop you from bleeding all over my duvet!"

"Don't worry about me," he said as he grabbed the towel out of her hands. "Find something to bind him up until we can get Brogie's men to take him into custody."

She stood watching him exert caution as he pressed the white linen to his face. "Jack, he's a fellow countryman. Do you really want to turn him over to the French?"

"He may be, but Em, he's been committing crimes. Since the French are the lawmen around here, we don't have much choice." He wouldn't say it, but Jack felt the cad deserved to spend a little time with the French, if not a little torture. "We'll worry about the repercussions later."

"Will you be alright here while I get Brogard?"

"Yes, Em. If he moves, I'll take care of him."

By the look in her eyes, Jack could tell she didn't like that answer. She hurried from the room, throwing on her robe as she moved. When she was gone, Jack rose and leaned against the bed post while the room spun slightly. He tapped Lamont with the toe of his boot, but he didn't move.

"Lucky for you that you're out, pal. I'm ready for a rematch if you get cocky."

It seemed as if time stood still, but eventually Emilia returned with Brogard and a small detail. He eyed Jack with suspicion, but when he saw the amount of blood staining his blouse and the towel, his look softened.

"Monsier Stiles, what happened to you," he asked as his men picked up the unconscious man and hauled him away in shackles.

"He fought bravely for my honor, Captain Brogard," Emilia answered for him, pride evident in her voice. "The Dragoon didn't stand a chance against Jack's capable fighting skills."

"But he cut you, no?" Brogard raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, he did. But who's laid out cold, huh, Brogie?"

Brogard nodded, acknowledging the evidence. "I will have a physician brought at once to take care of your injury, Monsieur Stiles." He whispered to his aide, and the man scurried out of the room. A short while later, the doctor appeared.

By that time, Emilia bid Jack to lie on her bed. She sat beside him, pressing another towel to the deep cut. He protested, but she shushed him and held his head still with one hand, while the other held onto the cloth.

"This cut will require stitches," the doctor announced after examining the jagged slash that was almost two inches long. The bleeding was under control and the gaping wound looked ugly.

"No, wait! Don't let anyone take a needle to your face, Jack." Emilia rushed from the room, crying, "I'll be right back."

When she returned, Emilia held a small flask in her hand and pulled a small brush out of it. She approached Jack's side and spoke to the doctor. "Could you please hold the edges of the cut together?"

"What is that? What are you going to do," the doctor asked, eyes wide as a horrible stench wafted from the flask.

"Not to worry. This is something I've been experimenting with, and this is the perfect time to test it."

"On my face? Are you nuts, Em?" Jack shifted under the doctor's grip, attempting to get away. "I don't feel like being a guinea pig tonight, not after being so close to becoming a shish kebab."

"What is it," the doctor repeated his query.

"It's something that will take the place of stitching. It binds the skin together in a virtually seamless fashion, so there will be no scarring later." She shrugged. "At least that is what I believe it will do."

"Em, no!" Jack protested, but it was no use. The doctor applied a cloth drenched in ether, and Jack went to sleep.

Light filtered through the curtains that were still drawn. Jack woke feeling groggy but with little pain. His face felt stiff, especially along his jaw line, and then he remembered the wound and what Em did. He shot out of bed and approached the wash stand mirror to study himself in the reflection. He touched the long red line. It appeared inflamed but it also looked as if it would be invisible after time. He compared it to another scar on his chin, and he was pleased at the prospect of not having another like it.

"Jack, you shouldn't be up and about," Emilia scolded him, and he whirled to face her. She saw where his fingers covered the cut and she smirked. "You had your doubts, but now do you see? You'll never know you were cut after it's healed."

"Thank you, Em. I'm sorry I doubted. I should have had more trust in you."

She closed the distance between them, reached up and touched the protected wound, and a tender smile crossed her lips. "I know you trust me. It's my experiments that must be taken with a grain of salt sometimes."

He laughed with her, the pull of the substance on his face making it feel awkward. The sound died quickly. "Well, anyway, thanks. If you don't mind, I'm going to go down to the lab and get some genuine sleep."

"Go right ahead. You deserve it." She stood on tiptoes and kissed his right cheek. Neither of them expected it, nor the shot of electricity that ran through them with the contact.

Jack's fingers trailed down his cheek, his eyes locking on hers, desire in them. He knew he had no business thinking the way he did at that moment. She was his friend, his pseudo-employer, his co-worker. He could think of a bunch more excuses if he let himself. Instead of taking her into his arms the way he wanted, he slipped past her and hurried downstairs. When he reached the lab, he stripped the suspenders off his shoulders, pulled the blouse over his head, and kicked off his boots while he unbuttoned his trousers. A trail of clothes led to his bed, and he dropped into it and buried himself in the covers, hoping that Emilia wouldn't decide to come down. He should have dunked his head into a bucket of cold water, but he wasn't sure if what Em used on his face was water soluble or not. He let everything vacate his mind and he fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The way Jack ran out of the room, one would have thought that she'd set his coat tails on fire, except he left his coat and vest behind. She set something on fire, just as he'd done to her. All through the day she tried to go about her business with the tingle of that kiss still on her lips. She was afraid to go out for fear that Brogard or Governor Croque would see the mark of her blush and wonder. Those two had enough to feed their perverted little brains without thinking about her.

Her curiosity over the impostor, however, finally drove her outdoors and to the mansion. Governor Croque was in his office when she entered, curtseying to him. She'd gotten used to his eyes poring over her low-cut bodice whenever she rose, although she never lost the desire to smack the sordid expression off his face.

"Madame, are you sufficiently recovered from last night's drama?"

"Yes, I am, thank you." She took the chair Croque offered and nodded when he held up a teacup. The servant poured her a cup and she took it. "Thank you."

"How is Jacques? Captain Brogard reported that he was seriously injured by the Dragoon."

"He's resting, Governor." Emilia took a sip of her tea. "Now, you and I know that the man who attacked those women was not really the Dragoon. Who was he?"

"An enemy of France," Croque replied with a smug smile. "That is all you need to be concerned about. He will be taken to France on the next ship, tried as a spy, and executed, of course. Those Americans, they thought that they could use a beloved folk hero to spy on our happy little settlement. How silly of them!"

"Are you certain he was a spy," she asked.

"Yes, my dear. Not to worry, he will be treated fairly."

Somehow I doubt that. Aloud, she said, "Hopefully this means that our stalking Dragoon problems have been solved."

"We believe so." Croque leaned closer to her and spoke in a soft voice. "Now that the populace believes that the Dragoon is captured and being punished, the real Dragoon would not dare to show his masked face again. It's providential, don't you think?" He giggled. "I was tempted to let Monsieur Lamont go back to America unpunished simply because of the fact that he took care of the Dragoon, but I know how much my brother will enjoy dealing with an American spy. I never got him anything for his birthday, so I consider it a late present."

The tea and biscuit sat like a rock in Emilia's stomach. She made small talk with him, with careful questions as to when the spy was leaving and on what ship. When she had enough information, it was time to leave and plan for Lamont's rescue. As much as she hated to help him, not even he deserved to be mistreated at the hands of Emperor Napoleon.

"Governor, if you will excuse me, I have other business to attend to this afternoon." Her bright smile lit up her face while inside she couldn't wait to return to the mansion.

"But of course, Madame. Have a wonderful day, and please, tell Jacques that I hope he is well soon." Croque accompanied her to the office door.

"I will. Thank you, Governor." As soon as her feet touched the sandy soil, she hurried to her home to wake Jack and tell him what she intended for him to do.

Emelia entered the lab and noticed the trail of clothing that led to Jack's bed. For a moment, a stab of jealousy raced through her thinking he was entertaining some tart from the pub. But no, he was exhausted when she last saw him. Indeed, he lay with his bare back to her, covered from the waist down by the sheet and a thick blanket. Soft snores came out of him, and not even her sitting on the mattress could wake him.

With trepidation she reached out and touched his hair, surprised at its silkiness. Her hand curled and the backs of her fingers brushed his cheek as she spoke softly. "Jack. Jack, wake up."

"Hmmph," he muttered and shifted, causing the coverlet to drop slightly.

Emelia glanced and blushed as she saw the curve of his backside, but she let out a small breath of relief when she realized that he still had his drawers on. Her eyes slipped back to his, and she found his open and watching her. She gasped, snatching her hand away from his face and retreating from the bed.

"Oh good, you're awake," Emelia exclaimed and punctuated her embarrassment with a small laugh.

Jack could have taken advantage of her indiscretion and had fun at her expense, but he held his tongue. Instead, he pulled up the covers and turned to face her. She caught a bit of his muscular midsection before he hid it away, and it took everything in her to not go weak in the knees. Emelia swallowed and forced her eyes to lock onto his.

"I was just visiting with the Governor. He intends to put Lamont on the next ship to France tonight. We can't let that happen, Jack. As despicable as this spy is, he must go back to your country."

"I agree." He propped himself up on one hand and his eyes narrowed with a sly smile on his face. "And I bet you have something in mind, don't you."

"Yes. Tonight, the real Dragoon will rescue Lamont and load him onto my ship, which will then transport him to America before the French vessel leaves port. It's perfect, as long as you are able to do the job."

"Don't worry, Em. Count me in."

"Perfect. Thank you, Jack."

"My pleasure, Em." Silence fell and the two froze staring at each other until Emelia cleared her throat.

He couldn't help smiling at her nervous discomfort, the way she raised her hand to the neck that he would love to ravish with kisses, before she whirled and hurried out of the lab. He chuckled low, too soft for her to hear. If only she knew what she did to him. Would she care?

It was difficult waiting for nightfall. Jack dressed as the Dragoon and with his talents for picking locks, the jail doors were no match for him. He unlocked them, found the spy only through luck since he was no longer dressed as the Dragoon, and extracted him from French custody.

Lamont stared at him. "Who are you?"

"I'm the real Dragoon," he replied. "I don't take too kindly to people using my good name to commit crimes. Why'd you do it?"

"When I came to Pulau Pulau, I heard the story about the charming, mysterious man in the cape and mask. The ladies especially enjoyed talking about him," Lamont said. "After seeing so many opportunities with so many lovely ladies who appeared to be immune to my advances, I decided to borrow your alter ego, Mr. Stiles, so that I could... enjoy myself a little while I waited for my mission."

Jack kept calm, wondering how Lamont knew it was him. Of course, he was a good spy. He would know somehow. His silence seemed to amuse the other man, and he grinned.

"You're wondering how I know who you are. My mark on you, even in this light, it's obvious." Lamont ran a finger down the side of his face, tracing an imaginary wound to mirror Jack's. "So, why do you masquerade as the Dragoon, Mr. Stiles?"

"I can assure you that it's for a much more noble cause than yours," Jack replied, forcing himself to keep his anger at bay. He marched Lamont to the waiting British vessel with no more conversation, and as soon as he was on board, it set sail. In the morning he would be miles away across the water, and the French would never know which way he'd been ferried.

Jack walked the empty streets back to Emilia's mansion in full Dragoon gear. It was risky. The people didn't know yet that he had not been the perpetrator. Emilia had a plan to educate them, and by the time the story of the impostor's capture was told, the Dragoon would again be a hero. He was only one hundred yards away when he looked up and saw a light in Emilia's window. The curtains were drawn, but a sliver of light shone through and he saw her move past the opening, her white gown visible for a fraction of a second. She stopped and he saw her hands moving, brushing her hair. He loved the softness of it, and how it reflected the sun in the day time. His eyes were riveted on Em, even though he could see only a piece of her, and he recalled the thrill of that kiss.

The light extinguished. He imagined her up there, pulling the coverlet down to slip under the sheets, her golden head resting on the pillows as her blue eyes closed to drift into another night. Only this time, she had nothing to fear. No one had anything to be concerned about with the impostor gone.

He shook his head. When would he learn that she was untouchable? With a groan of frustration, Jack retired to the lab, disrobed from his alter-ego, and prepared for bed. He hung up the cape, hat, and mask, discounting the idea forming in his head. It was unconscionable that he would even think it! He knew she was attracted to him, not the Dragoon. If he were to ever go to her room, it would be as himself. And that would never happen, because he thought too much of her to give her the wrong impression of his motives.

Go to sleep, Jack, and dream of what you wish for, because that's the only way you'll get it.

As hard as she tried, Emilia could not go to sleep. She tossed and turned until her nightgown twisted and imprisoned her legs. She growled and threw off the covers, pulling her legs apart and unsnaring herself. She got up for a glass of water. She walked the halls trying to wear herself out. Everything she tried failed. When she went back to bed, she laid her head on the pillow and detected a hint of Jack's cologne. That was the problem. Thoughts of him filled her head, and the only way to stop it was to rid her mind of him.

She thought she'd done it at last when she dreamed of a peaceful field full of summer flowers. It reminded her of a meadow on the far end of the island, a place she liked to go to think sometimes. The warm sun beat down on her and she removed her wrap. As it slid off her shoulders, hands reached out to take it from her. Turning, her eyes widened when she saw Jack dressed as the Dragoon standing behind her with her garment in his hands. The serious, studious look on his face was unmistakable even with the mask.

"What are you doing here," she asked, not in alarm or annoyance. She was glad to see him.

"I'm here for you, Em." His tender tone caused her heart to flutter.

"Oh, Jack. I want you right here." Emilia launched her body into his arms, her hands framing his face as his lips lowered to press against hers. The rush of electricity was back, lighting up the sky like lightning on a stormy night. Her passion was the thunder, and when he drew her down into the tall grass, she was only too happy to go along.

A flash of light, followed by a rolling rumble woke her. She gasped, the dream becoming all too real. A hissing sound of rain accompanying the lightning and thunder, and a cool breeze coming through the open window chilled her. Shivering, she jumped out of bed, rushing to the window to close the shutters. Something ran into her on the way back to the bed, and the breath caught in her throat. It was only the bed post. What a relief! How silly of me to be scared. There's nothing to be afraid of.

She was almost asleep again when the slow creak of the door caused her to open her eyes. "Who's there," she whispered with annoyance. She wanted to go back to the dream of her and Jack in the tall grass. She wanted to know what he had in mind, not just guess and be left wanting.

"Em." Jack's voice was so soft, she barely heard it.

"Jack? Is everything okay?"

"I… I was just checking on you," he said. "I, uh, I couldn't sleep."

She couldn't see him, but she sensed when he entered the room. Emilia struck a match and lit the candle on her bedside table. Jack stood just outside the glow, but when another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, strips of light shone through the shutters, painting him with light.

"Am I disturbing you," he asked. "I can go back to the lab."

"No," she exclaimed, not wanting to sound so desperate for his company. He would never believe it if she said it, but she tried anyway. "I may be a little concerned about... safety. I know it's silly, but…."

"No, not at all." Jack stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed. He was dressed in his nightshirt and cap. Most men looked ridiculous in such an outfit, but not him.

With a smile, Emilia reached out, grasped the tassel on his cap, and pulled it off his head. His eyes rolled to the side, watching her movements.

"What are you doing?"

She sighed, sitting up against the headboard, smiling at him with a coy little expression. "I'm just picturing you fighting off the impostor. You were magnificent, Jack."

"Not really, or I wouldn't have this souvenir." He tapped the wound. "By the way, thanks for the patch up job. It seems to be working well."

"Really? Let me see." She got to her knees as she pulled on his sleeve, urging him to come closer to the light. Her hand cupped underneath his chin and turned his head so she could see the healing wound. "It does seem to be working, doesn't it? I can hardly wait to see what it looks like after it's healed."

"My question is, how do we get this stuff off later?"

"No worries. It will crumble and fall off eventually. I tried it on a dummy first."

Jack frowned. "And its name is Jack, I presume."

She laughed, the airiness of it wrapping around them as her hand wrapped around his. "No, I used a real mannequin." Her other hand moved from under his chin to his cheek. "I would never, ever, call you a dummy, Jack. You're anything but."

"Thank you, Em." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed its back, lingering over her fingers.

Such a simple action, and it took her breath away. "Oh, Jack. Please, do that again."

It was as if that was all he needed to hear. His smile turned tender and predatory at the same time. His hands circled her waist and roved around to her back, guiding her lips toward his. He knew it was entirely possible that come morning they would regret this, but he could no longer deny his heart.

Her lips were soft and stung like fire when he kissed them, stealing away his breath. When he thought he might pass out from lightheadedness, he pulled away. Her eyes opened slow and smooth, foggy with her desire. His voice thick with emotion, Jack said, "Em, before this goes any further, I want you to know... I love you."

She looked surprised, whether it was because he loved her or the fact that he said it, he wasn't sure. Then she smiled like sunshine breaking through the clouds and replied, "I love you too, Jack, and I've wasted far too much time dancing around the truth. I want you to love me."

All his inhibitions vaporized with the permission in her words. Like her dream, but without the tall grasses and flowers, Jack lay Emilia on the bed and made love to her until the storm ended and they both fell asleep. Meanwhile, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, the man who tried to be the Daring Lothario spent the night alone, on a straw pallet in the hold of a British cargo ship heading for the States.


End file.
